


Splice Knot

by Slantedlight (BySlantedlight)



Series: Just Enough Rope [2]
Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 05:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13583697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BySlantedlight/pseuds/Slantedlight
Summary: Coda toJust Enough Rope





	Splice Knot

_“…I'll give you rope, I'll give you cuffs, I'll give you whatever you want. And then I'll bend over for you…”_

By the time the car slid into its place outside Bodie’s flat they’d worked themselves into a near fever of wanting. Voices low against the hum of the engine and the tyres on the road, they’d remembered what had been, and planned what was to come, and without any words at all they’d known that now there was no turning back. 

They’d both declared: game over.

At the front door Doyle had stood close, trusting in midnight shadows to cover his hand as he slid it up and down the inside of Bodie’s thigh, and Bodie had fumbled with the key. Bodie wanted this as much as he did, was ready for it, needing it, and the knowledge speared Doyle right to his groin, his stomach. His heart. 

_He knew Bodie._

Finally they were where they wanted to be, after two weeks of abstinence, after two weeks of mud and blood and catching only glimpses of each other through the rain. There’d been too much time to think about everything that had happened since it all began, since it all… had twisted, and he knew he thought too hard, too much sometimes, but…

Now the bedside lamp cast Bodie’s skin to a warmth of light and shadow as he lay, stretched long and solid, on the bed. Doyle knew what that skin would feel like beneath his fingers, under the palm of his hand, against his thighs if he straddled Bodie’s chest, or his stomach, or his hips. And if he knelt over Bodie, legs either side of him, if he leaned forward further still, he could press them together so that their cocks touched, his and Bodie’s, so that they could move slickly together while he held Bodie down and he kissed him… 

If.

If he turned Bodie over instead, if he licked his way up powerful thighs, until there was nowhere else to go but _in_ , if he spread Bodie’s arse with his hands, if he bent down and if his tongue traced its way _there_ , if it brought moisture, and wanting and more need, then he could take Bodie that way, could bring them both to such heights, could make them come, hard and forever, and…

Except.

The light of the bedside lamp shone on the stripe of plastic, a darker pale than Bodie’s skin, that lay across his neck, a nearly perfect horizontal line three inches below his ear. 

He’d nearly killed Bodie today, firing his gun where it shouldn’t have been fired, ripping the blood from him, tearing his flesh so that he burned with the pain of it. Any further across and he… 

But he hadn’t. It was just a crease, just a bruise, nothing more than Band Aids and Savlon required, not really. The same thing had happened to them dozens of times, would happen hundreds before they were finally done. Finally done...

“Forgotten something?” There was a surge beside him, and Bodie was sitting up again, eyes shining too, in that lamplight.

Doyle wanted him, he _did_ want him, but…

But.

“You nearly died today,” he managed instead, held immobile by… by nothing. Bodie’d offered himself, promised him, “… _I'll give you rope, I'll give you cuffs …_ ” All Doyle had to do was to kiss him, to take him. Why couldn’t he just do it, why did he always have to make everything so complicated? It had seemed so simple outside by the pub, in the car, listening to Bodie and his stories, weaving them into fantasies as they drove together through the sodium-orange night. And he _did_ want him.

Bodie raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah but I didn't," he said. "Besides, was nearly worse than that. You nearly got rid of the best thing that ever happened to you."

"Arrogant sod." But it was true.

"When you're this tall…" he leaned closer to Doyle, "…dark…" closer still, so that their lips brushed as he spoke, "…and beautiful…" And that was all he managed, because it was Doyle who took the words away, who licked them from the air around his tongue, who kissed them into himself and into silence, and pushed Bodie down onto the bed again.

This Bodie was all his. This Bodie forgave him, and this Bodie would believe in him still when they woke up in the morning. He could have this Bodie until the _finally_. It would be alright, surely it would be alright.

His eyes closed, he gave himself up to the heat beneath him, to the feel and play of muscles under his own, as they tensed just so, as they pushed back just so, lifting them both from the bed with their need.

“Doyle…” A whisper against his cheek as he slid them still closer together, as he wanted to moan with how good it was, how right it was, how he wanted it never to end...

“Ray… wait…”

Oh, but Bodie didn’t really want him to stop, not really, not if he pressed there, and breathed into his ear, and… 

It was Bodie who moaned then, but it was also Bodie who stilled, who pulled away from him. “Ray…”

He opened his eyes again, not wanting to. Something was wrong, Bodie wasn’t…

There was a loud metallic ring against the bedhead, then a _click_ of a sound, and he realised that Bodie had taken his hands away, was reaching to the set of cuffs he kept hanging from the wrought iron rails.

“Your memory going?” Bodie whispered, “Or have you changed your mind?”

Bodie beneath him, bound, powerless to do anything but strain against him, to do anything but want him and need him, as much as he wanted Bodie… Doyle licked his lips, felt the answering catch in Bodie’s breathing. 

Yes?

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t what he wanted. He hesitated.

“Ray, please!”

Don’t stop this, don’t stop this, _don’t stop this_ … What was he doing?

He shook his head slowly, body aching to feel Bodie move again, to feel the want and the need, just the same as his, so that the ache turned into a fine-stretched trembling, because if Bodie would only…

Bodie looked up at him, and Doyle thought how blue his eyes were, and how far he could see into them and through them, and to the truth of them. He did know Bodie, patient and trusting and… How many years of Bodie being Bodie could he see? Of Bodie being _his_ Bodie, long before either of them had known it?

“No.” 

He could take Bodie, oh, it would be so easy. He could tie him and he could sink deep into him, and make them both shout with it, and another day he would.

Slowly he reached up to the cuffs with both hands, snapped the first around his own wrist, loud in the quiet night. 

Bodie needed him, but tonight he needed Bodie, because they were both still alive, and because despite his eternal _thinking_ he hadn’t managed to end them after all. Because whatever else he was, and whatever else they did, the light all came from Bodie.

“Tie me,” he whispered, “Tie me hard, and take me harder…”

And Bodie did. He slid from under Doyle and then he kissed him, and reached up and closed the second cuff around him, tight enough to scrape the blood from him if he pulled just that bit too hard, and then for a moment he sat back on his knees, straddling Doyle’s hips, and just looked at him. Doyle looked back, without closing his eyes, and Bodie half-smiled, and then he moved again, love and lust both, to take him into his mouth until Doyle was nearly crying with it, to stretch him open and explore him with his tongue until Doyle had no breath left, to sink into him again, and again and again, two become one, tied tightly together by this, in oh, so many ways.


End file.
